Ghosts of Our Present
by Unicron Risen
Summary: If there was a way to change the past, wouldn't you take it? Erase your mistakes? Or... erase people? Just how much will change when the 'cons go back in time? Time will tell... future plot subject to change
1. Prologue, the First Part

A little black leather book with gold lettering on the front,

"_The B-I-B-L-E, Yes that's the book for me…" the high pitched singing of a child rings out in the nearly empty house._

Placed below the unstable leg of a chair, as a young boy stands upon the wooden furniture, reaching up to the cupboards, still not reaching quiet enough despite the help of the chair.

"_I stand upon the word of God, the B-I-B-L-E…" the voice trails off, followed by giggling laughter and the foot falls of small feet on tile flooring._

The chair leg cracks, thumping to the ground as the chair topples with the child, who releases a piercing shriek as he falls. Just before he falls the strong, familiar arms of an older man catch him.

"Sam! What on earth were you doing?" Nearly panicked, Ron Witwicky cradles his only child to his chest, not quite subtly checking his progeny for injury.

Sam sniffles, rubbing at his tearful eyes and tries to explain through racking sobs. "I-I jus'-jus' wan-wanna coo-cook-cookie."

"_I stand upon the word of God…" the child turns a corner and stares at the gruesome scene displayed in the living room, voice becoming smaller as tiny brown eyes catch red, glowing lights. "the…B-I..-B-L-e..." A metal hand reaches out, circling the child, and squeezes._

"Sam, you know you aren't supposed to have cookies before supper. What would your mother say?" Sam hangs his head, still sobbing and Ron sighs, carrying his son to the living room. "Oh, Sam… shh, it's alright. I have you."

The brunette child continues to sob, but they lessen as he falls asleep, secure in the grip of his parent.

_The scream can be heard two blocks away, before it's abruptly cut off. But the sound of it alerts the yellow camero, brief though the it is. The car transforms, releasing its own cry of agony, laced with crackles and static. "SAM!"_

Ron carries his son up to his room, kicking a few scattered toys out of his path as he moves to set his son down on the bed, smiling at the peaceful look projected by the red, tear-stained face. Gently, he uses one of his hands, much larger than he normally sees them when compared to the size of his child, to brush soft brown hair away from Sam's face.

_From the living room the red eyed monster smirks in triumph, sending its message to its master. 'The Witwicky child is terminated. Orders?' There is quiet for but a few seconds._

'_Return to the present. And destroy the Bug.'_

'_Acknowleged.'_


	2. Prologue, the Second Part

The flash light clattered to the ground, light clicking off at the impact.

"_This little light of mine…" a child muttered between sobs, hidden in the darkness with only a crack between two doors to see out of._

Two small hands picked up the plastic device, waving it around a bit, then bringing it up to a face chubby with baby fat.

"_I-I'm gon-nna let it shi-ine…" he hiccups between a sob, looking out as a floorboard creaks. The child clutches the flashlight closer, attempting to be quiet even as he sobs._

"Sam, I think the flashlight's broken! We can't tell scary stories now!" The child calls out to his friend, walking over to a pillow and blanket fort. Another child pops his head out from between a sheet and a towel.

"Aw, but we gotta have scary stories! Maybe it needs new batteries."

"_Th-this little li-ight o-o-of mi-ine…" The blonde child whispers, as the creaking becomes more frequent, louder and louder as it approaches. The child's breathing quickens and his heart beats faster. "I-I'm gonna l-l-et it shi-ine…" Not even quiet a whisper, his voice barely passes through his lips._

"Yeah! I know where dad keeps them." Sam smiles at his friend before crawling back into their fort.

"Okay Miles, you get the batteries."

"_This li-ittle light of mi-ine…" The creaking stops, and the child peers though the crack, looking through the narrow window to outside his hiding spot._

"Did you find them?" Sam calls from inside the dark fort.

"Yeah, hold on!" There's a scraping of wood on wood.

"_I'm gonna le-et it shine…" The child trembles, searching for something with limited success. Then he hears one more, longer creak and a metal face appears, red eyes glaring at him through the crack._

Miles reappears, crawling into the fort with the now working flash light. "Okay! Me first!" Sam pouts, but sits still as Miles puts the flashlight under his own chin.

"_Goodbye, fleshling." The child screams as metal pierces though the wood of the wardrobe and his own flesh, choking wetly and dropping the flashlight. "Pathetic." The metal beast sneers, retracting its tail from the small being. 'Target terminated. Further orders?'_

'_Return to the present.'_

'_Acknowledged.'_


	3. Prologue, the Third Part

A small rubber sparkplug rolls under a table.

"_Starlight, starbright," A little girl murmurs, hands clasped tightly together and eyes squeezed shut to avoid looking at the room around her._

"Mikeala, go get that for Daddy, please." A little girl with bouncy black curls, wearing denim overalls nearly skips over to the work table.

"Okay Daddy!" She says, getting to her knees and reaching under the table.

"_F-first star I see tonight," she whimpers, sniffling back snot as tears fall down her already red face. She can hear the engine outside. She shakes so hard with fear and holding back her tears it's almost like the house is moving._

She picks it up and scoots out from under the table, carrying the sparkplug back to her father, who's half buried in the car engine he's working on and muttering the whole while.

"Here you go!" She holds it out, grinning a gape-tooth smile as her father lifts his head up and uses a grease-blackened hand to pick up the part.

"Thank you baby. Why don't you sit on the stool?" Mikaela rushes to wheel a tall stool over to where her father is working.

"_Wish I may, and wish I might" She tightens her grip on her hands as she feels the house truly tremble, hears the metal monster outside pulling on the roof._

She scrambles up the rungs until she's seated on the stool. Her father makes sure to steady it, so she doesn't fall off. "Ready?" She nods, already looking at the engine with wide, fascinated eyes. Mr. Banes smiles at his daughter, and points to the car battery. "What's this?"

"_Have this wish I wish tonight…" She swallows, and holds back as sob as plaster and roofing fall down and she can feel wind blowing. She chokes, hot tears running faster as the metal creature lets out a triumphant sound._

"The battery, daddy!" She says it as though he's being rather silly. And perhaps he is, because he smiles at her and points to the coolant tank.

"Oh? And what's this, huh?" It's a favorite game of theirs. He teaches her this way, and suppresses any guilt he has about dragging her into his life style as he watches her blue eyes light up with every right answer.

"_I wish-" The hand snatches her up, cutting off her words with her oxygen. She gasps for air, uselessly as the hand crushes her with barely any effort._

"_The femme is terminated."_

"_Return to the Present."_

"_Acknowledged."_


	4. In Which There Is A Choice

_Present Day_

_Location Unknown_

He felt as though he was adrift in water, his limbs heavy and breathing even, but lazily conscious. The only real difference was that he didn't feel the coolness of water on his skin, nor the Goosebumps raised by a breeze caressing him. He was weightless, untethered to a grounding point- content and relaxed.

**Samuel James Witwicky.**

What. He struggled to open his eyes- the lids felt almost as though they'd been seared together, melted to keep them closed.

**Awake.**

He was _trying_. Didn't the voice understand that? It was very difficult to do- though he couldn't fathom why. He'd done it thousands of times before. It should be simple- except it wasn't. His body didn't want to listen to his commands.

**You have no body. Awake.**

Great. Now the booming voice that came from every-fucking-where was a mind reader. Finally, he managed to force his eyes open. At least, he thought they were open, it was hard to tell when he couldn't see anything. Not that he was just in darkness, there was literally nothing to see at all. _Where am I?_

**A good question. You are in a place beyond time and space.**

_A dream?_ He thought, rather spontaneously. Why had he thought that?

**In a manner.**

_Okay, seriously, the disembodied voice act is getting old._

And like that, he was no longer in nothing. He was sitting on a rock, surrounded by sand and tall rock walls. It was reminisce of the time in Egypt when he'd-

_I died again?_

**Yes. And No.**

What. _What?_ That made absolutely no sense. Either he was dead or he wasn't.

**You are a version of yourself from the present. This version of you grew up and lived to be you. However, something has changed in the past. Your past self was killed, which killed now-you. But you shouldn't have been killed back then.**

…_What? I don't understand._

**Time is hardly linear. It is more like a tangled mass of yarn, often doubling back, entwining, forming knots, and running parallel to itself.**

_That's not helping me understand._ He was begining to get irritated on top of being confused.

**Let me simplify: For you to have lived to the age you are now, your past self had to have survived. Someone, or someones, went back in time to kill past you. They killed you, killing present-you as well. But that wasn't what happened originally, so it made a different future. The present-you from the original timeline didn't die, because when they killed your past self they made a new timeline, in which present-you does not exist.**

…_So I'm alive in one timeline, and dead in another?_

**Yes.**

_Then why am I here? And what is 'here'?_

**I told you: we are beyond time and space.**

_So I'm dreaming that I died, but also didn't die?_

**No, that actually happened.**

_This is very confusing._

**Your spark-brother understood much better.**

A memory of Miles and him playing as kids came to his mind, and he looked around.

_Miles is here?_

Wait, how did he know the voice meant Miles?

**As is your femme.**

_Mikaela! What did they do? !_

**They became attached to you. And for that, they were murdered.**

_That's not fair._

**Precious few things in life are.**

_Where are they?_

**In similar 'dreams'. The three of you share this fate.**

_What do we do now?_

He saw what he could only describe as an after image, like staring at the sun too long and then looking away only to have discolored circles left. It was himself, a discolored, misshapen form of his self. His hair was longer, more blond than brunette. His eyes were blue instead of green-hazel. His shoulders more slender, his muscles more toned his legs shorter and torso longer. But he could tell it was his self.

_What?_

**I will give you a choice. You may come with me and be at peace.**

_Peace?_

**Or you may return to life.**

_You can do that?_

**In a way. I cannot return you to your life as it was. But I can give you a life.**

_What about Mikaela, and Miles_?

**I have offered them the same. Their decisions, and yours, are not to be made by others. So I will not influence your choice by reveling what the others have done.**

…

Did he want to live, even if he couldn't be himself? If he couldn't recognize his own reflection? …but it was only a superficial change. He'd still have his thoughts, his morals, his feelings. His family motto, if not his family.

**Have you chosen?**

_Yeah. I choose to live._

**You are sure? Even though you will no longer be Samuel James Witwicky?**

_I'll still be Samuel James Witwicky. I just won't look like myself._

**You will not change your mind? No second thoughts? This is a permanent change.**

_No sacrifice, no victory._

**Very well.**

He felt a tingle in his fingertips, and his toes. It quickly spread, like a wildfire in a drought. He was incased in it, and though he felt he was awake, it was as though he still slept and his eyes begged to open. Like his whole body had fallen asleep.

**Awake.**

He obeyed.


End file.
